


landscape

by januarys



Category: The Last of Us
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 13:36:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/januarys/pseuds/januarys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the moments that define who they are, the spaces in between, and as the seasons fade into one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	landscape

**Author's Note:**

> I usually post a few headcanon-ish train of thoughts over on my tumblr, so I decided to try and put them into coherent sentences. Creative license taken with a certain part in this, you'll know it once you read it. Hope you like it <3

It’s Ellie crouching for cover, white-knuckled hands gripping onto the straps of her backpack, and desperately trying to hold back the little sounds of fear that rise from her throat. Ellie counting to ten because these clickers have a jagged routine, and it’s always after _ten_ that they amble further away. Ellie, Ellie, Ellie: she’ll knife you from the shadows but then she’s the one in the dark, scrambling for purchase among the broken moonlight.

Then it’s Joel coming up behind her, a slight shift of material from his worn jeans, and an arm around her trembling form like he’s a lifeline. A shield. Ellie clings desperately to him, small fingers weary from their grip on her backpack, and Joel unconsciously pulls her a little closer because he’s not going to lose this one.

Not again.

*

It’s those moments in camp, under the bright moonlight. Light pollution is nothing more than tales told by dead men, and the campfire is the only unnatural thing in the area. Joel decides that it’s quiet, but not _too_ quiet, and he settles down on a nearby stump to keep watch. Ellie flicks through that damn joke-book, snorts of laughter breaking the silence, rolling onto her side, her back, her knees, and she just can’t get comfortable.

“Joel,” she says with all seriousness. “If at first you don’t succeed, then skydiving isn’t for you.”

“Not right now Ellie,” he says with annoyance. “Alright? Not now.”

He misses Ellie’s frown, and the way her faces falls into something thoughtful. Then it’s barely five minutes later that the clicking begins, _clickclickclick_ , and Joel’s heart drops into his stomach. The area was safe, secure. No spores, no infected, barely any wildlife. He grips his revolver, turns to Ellie because his first instinct is to _protect_ -

Ellie is clicking her tongue, a mischievous twist on her lips.

“That isn’t funny,” Joel’s angry but Ellie shrugs and licks her bottom lip.

“It was for me ‘cause it made you squirm.”

Then she laughs and as the area fills with the sounds of her delight, Joel can’t find it in himself to be angry at her. It’s the best sound he hear's all week.

*

It’s Joel as he dreams of what could have been, what never will be, and what will become undone. His dreams are foggy, rampant echoes of memories untold. Ellie is among them, ripped jeans and big green eyes, and Sarah holds her hand as they walk through his front door. There’s a runner beating at the windows, and it looks a little like Tess.

“New BFF Pops,” Sarah’s voice is muffled, it’s been so long. “We do the hardcore drugs.”

Joel reaches out to her but then it’s Ellie is her place. Her hand is outstretched, a large grin on her face.

“Teamwork,” she affirms and her fingernails are caked with blood. The smell of Jackson County fills the air between them. In this place, there is only Ellie and himself. Ellie and the ashes of his memories.

Joel claps her hand and water spills from his touch.

“Yeah,” she whispers. The dream fades.

*

It’s Ellie tearing David apart, losing herself with each hack of the blade. Joel tries to pull her away because Ellie is more than a little girl, more than his baby girl. Ellie is his moral compass, a shred of his little-remaining humanity, his absolute everything in a world where he has nothing. His hands are cold as he grips her face, pulls her away from the carnage, and her tears are hot against his skin.

“Baby girl,” he rasps because the snow is crushing him and so is Ellie as she burrows herself into his arms, tries to fold herself around Joel. She smells of blood, ashes from the burning fire, of _home_. Then it’s Ellie pulling herself together, because “What am I doing,” and “What have I _done_ ,” and “Don’t fucking _touch me_ ”.  Just because Joel has known both sides of the field, it doesn’t mean that Ellie should.

So he gathers them up, a kiss to the top of her head and a reassuring shield around her once again.

*

It’s that lone shopping cart sitting in the center of the freeway, and it’s Ellie as she rushes forward. Full of laughter and that simplistic child-like joy because of a _shopping cart_. It’s easy to forget her age, but moments like these are enough to make Joel take a step back and think that _yeah, still just a kid_.

Then it’s Ellie grabbing his hand, tugging him to the cart like an impatient child, just like Sarah was all those years ago.

“Come on Joel,” Ellie says as she clambers into the shopping cart, limbs hanging everywhere.

“Ellie,” he says because they still have a ways to go. “We really should-”

“Just push the fucking cart, Joel,” she demands, and Joel is thinking about their rations, their journey, how far _they’ve_ come, and a little distraction like this is enough to lift the weight from their shoulders. For a moment.

Ellie’s smile carries them down the freeway as Joel pushes them towards the horizon.


End file.
